Apostrophe S
by TheNextFolchart
Summary: It had been seven hundred days since George Weasley had changed the sign on the door from, "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes" to, "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."


**Apostrophe S**

_For Yamiyugi23_

* * *

It had been seven hundred days since George Weasley had changed the sign on the door from, "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes" to, "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

Nobody had noticed.

Why would they? It was one tiny apostrophe. It was barely there; barely even necessary. And why should it matter to the customers whether there were two Weasleys behind the counter or only one? It wasn't as if they were stopping by for a family reunion.

But George had always been one for the details, so he'd flipped the "s" and the apostrophe, and now every time he looked toward the door he felt a curious pang of sadness.

"If it makes you so upset, just change it back," Lee Jordan had suggested, and George had lost his temper and screamed that it wasn't that easy, it wasn't that simple, and _didn't Lee think he wished he could?_

"Honestly, George," Angelina Johnson said when she stopped in on the seven hundred and first day. "Look at you. You're badly overworked. When's the last time you shaved?"

"I'm _fine_," George said, and then, "Oi! Ponytail! Keep your hands out of the fish tank, they'll bite your fingers off!" The blonde girl by the fish hastily withdrew her hand. "I swear half the people who come in here can't read," he added to Angelina. "The sign's right there on the tank: 'Do Not Touch Goldfish. They Are Actually Transfigured Whale Sharks.'"

"Do people actually buy those?" Angelina asked.

"A fair few, yeah. They give them as gifts to horrible relatives, mostly." George stifled a yawn. Angelina noticed.

"You need to get some rest," she said. "It's time you look after yourself for a change."

"I'm fine, I told you."

"Humor me."

"Humor yourself, you're in a bloody joke shop," he said, but his heart wasn't in it.

"I mean it. I'm worried about you. When's the last time you slept?"

"Honestly?" He started toward the back room. She followed close behind. "I don't remember. Tuesday maybe?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Today's Tuesday."

"Last Tuesday, then?"

Angelina sighed. "I know you miss him. I miss him, too. But you can't just - "

"You have _no idea_," George snapped, "how much I miss him."

"No, I don't. But I know you feel dead inside. I know everything reminds you of him - every memory, every family member, every inch of this place. I know that sometimes you can convince yourself _just for a second _that everything's fine, until it comes crashing down again, and it hurts just as badly as it did the very first time. And I know how tempting it is to use _obliviate_, and try and remove that part of your memory altogether, just so you can stop feeling so tortured. But I also know you'll never do that. Because as much as it absolutely kills you to remember, it would be worse to sit there and have to wonder why you feel so bloody _empty_."

She was crying. He'd never seen her cry before.

"And the worst part is, he was nothing to me. He was a handful of Quidditch matches and one dance and about two years of wishes that didn't come true. Every school has a troublemaker, a rule breaker, a ladies' man, and that's all he was to me. So if I'm feeling all those terrible things over such a stranger, I cannot even _begin _to imagine how you feel."

Now _he _was crying.

"So forgive me, George Weasley, for being a little bit _worried about your health._"

"I - " He swallowed. "I didn't mean - "

"I know you didn't." She coaxed him into a hug. "But that sign on your door - George, you really need to change it back."

"And what, make it grammatically incorrect?" He shook his head in mock horror. "Hermione Granger would murder me."

She didn't smirk. "It makes it seem like you're alone. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. One Weasley. Just George. All alone. But you're not alone, George." She pulled back from him long enough to kiss his tear-stained cheek. "He's gone, but you're not alone." She pressed her lips to his skin again.

He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her head until she was kissing his lips, and it was bitter and ugly and rough around the edges, but it was also the sweetest kind of _relief._

Because in the past seven hundred and one days, Angelina Johnson was the closest he'd come to feeling whole again.

* * *

_Reposted from May 23, 2014_

_[Battleship Challenge: "Honestly, you're badly overworked," she said as she shot her friend a pointed look. "It is time to look after yourself for a change."]_

_[Wizard Family Portrait Challenge: George Weasley]_

_[Monthly Drabble-A-Thon: Obliviate]_

_[Star Challenge: Castor and Pollux - write about the Weasley twins]_

_[100 prompts: "Every school has a rulebreaker, a troublemaker, a ladies' man. He's ours.]_

_[Het-Pairings Boot Camp: relief]_


End file.
